


sounds fake but okay

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Musical References, Mutual Pining, Songfic, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Godot, born Sylvain Jose Gautier, is a world famous pop artist known for his celebrity lifestyle but despite his countless scandals, he's never been bigger as he set out to launch his next world tour. He expects the countless fans, the hordes of paparazzi, and the mindless interviews asking him about who he's dating and what he's drinking. But he doesn't expect to see a pair of blinding gold eyes, a weathered guitar, and a voice that stands for everything he once held dear.Can he and Felix navigate the perils of the celebrity lifestyle and come to terms with their past, or are they doomed to repeat themselves once more? All Sylvain knows is that it's going to take a lot more than a smile and a wink to charm this fan.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 157
Collections: Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	sounds fake but okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slickandprettythings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slickandprettythings/gifts).



> So the Secret Santa reveal was yesterday but I didn't have a chance to actually upload this until today. Whoops.
> 
> I had so much fun working on this and I hope that everyone (including my giftee haha) enjoys it! And, if you want to listen along, there is a playlist (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQEGOi8mAmKUX8rhdRGs5oYEzI0cT1RRs)

_"Hi, Godot, thanks for joining us at Entertainment Weekly._

Thanks for having me, beautiful. Love your hair, the color really brings out your eyes. 

_Haha, you really always do flatter. But let's dive right in — your newest album,_ From Under The Cork Tree _, just went platinum. What does that mean for you?_

Well, it's a huge honor. I really have to thank every single one of my fans for helping support me. I know it's a bit of a different feel than my past stuff, but I'm really proud of it. 

_We all love it here, just like your fans! Now, the album has been described as a "soulful refrain pondering the price of fame and what success really means, alongside peppy beats and a stunning vocal range." What do you hope that people get from it?_

I think that this album is returning to my roots. Everyone does it. You just get a sense of — of nostalgia. Like, you miss when things were different and idealize those times. I think that it's normal, but I wanted to see what that really means for — for someone like me. 

_Some fans think that_ From Under The Cork Tree _is a bit more dour than your previous work, especially citing_ Animals _, which was the first album of yours to get on Billboard's Top 100. What do you have to say about that?_

Sometimes a guy has to experiment. I really disagree that _Cork Tree_ is, like, that depressing. Besides, _Animal_ s was the music of someone in his early 20s who just wanted to party and have fun. I still am that guy, but I've also been making music for over ten years now. I'm not the same guy, so I'm not going to make the same music. 

_The album has a recurring theme of loss and giving up, specifically in the lines "detox just to retox" and "if you love me let me go" — is this a sign that we should be listening to the rumors of your retirement?_

Nah, I don't think I'm going to retire anytime soon. I'm not really — I love the music. I love it. I'll stop when I run out of ideas — or when I'm dead. So no, I'm not gonna retire anytime soon. Not if my agent has her way, haha. 

_If you had to pick a line from the album to describe how you're feeling about the future, which would it be and why?_

Probably "nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy." Just seems right. 

_On a more cheerful note, this is the first album of yours to break a billion sales across digital and physical copies. What's next?_

Literally, I have my big tour coming up — but I think if I tell you anything else, my agent might strangle me. Just — just keep your eyes open. Figuratively, I don't know. I guess wherever my next muse pops up, that's where I'll be. 

_Now, you're usually seen with a cute girl on your arm, but recently you've been spending quite a bit of time with Allegra Maroon — should we be expecting anything soon?_

Nah, 'llegra and I are just really good friends. Nothing 'tween us. Um, can I have some water? Thanks. 

_So, if you aren't with Allegra Maroon, is there a girl on the side?_

You know how it is, I'm sure — too many beautiful women, not enough — enough time… You'd think travelling around the world give you enough time to… to… what was I…. 

_At this point in the interview, Godot threw up and the interview was unable to proceed. We thank Godot for his time."_

_— Interview between Godot and Entertainment Weekly_

#

"Sylvain, wake up!" 

He didn't have much of a choice as the curtains to his hotel room windows were pulled back. Both of them simultaneously, thanks to the combined forces of Mercedes and Annette. Mercedes was still saying things, but Sylvain barely caught a word. His head throbbed. He wasn't wearing underwear. His throat was dry and his eyes wet and he felt sick. He sat up and immediately regret it.

"Oh no—" Annette threw herself across the room, chucking a towel at him. He hurled into it. Mercedes sighed. Loudly. 

Sylvain would have given her a smile, but the bile in his throat burned and made him crave death a little more than most mornings. Instead, he groaned and rolled onto his side. He pulled a blanket over his head. The towel fell to the floor. Some poor cleaning person would have to get that later. It didn't matter. He always left a big tip. 

The room was spinning when Mercedes yanked the covers off of him. "You have an interview in three hours with _US Magazine_ and then a photoshoot for _GQ_ that'll last until about five. After that, you have dinner with your father—"

Sylvain groaned. "Annette, if you smother me to death with a pillow, everyone will think I died in my sleep. Take my wallet, I've got like a grand in there." 

"Which should last until six, after which you will have an emergency that desperately needs your attention," Mercedes continued. 

"No dying allowed," Annette chided. She started grabbing his outfit for the day out of a suitcase that she must have brought up with her, because Sylvain had never seen it before in his life. "Red or blue?" 

"I'm going to be sick." 

"You already were," Mercedes pointed out. "After dinner, you have until nine for whatever you want. At nine, you're scheduled to make an appearance at Club 360. They'll be playing your biggest hits and a few of your newer songs. You will not be asked to perform, and if you do, I will remind you that you are contractually obligated not to perform anything from _Under The Cork Tree_." 

"If I get hit by a bus, do I still have to go?" 

"I think red will look good today," Annette decided. "Come on, Sylvain. If you don't get into the shower soon, you won't be ready in time for hair and makeup. They're due in an hour." 

Sylvain groaned again. "Tell everyone I'm sick and cancel all my plans." 

"You already messed up the _Entertainment Weekly_ interview. You cannot miss _US Magazine_. And the photoshoot will be capturing promo shots for the tour—" 

"Don't care. Cancel it. I'm hungover." Sylvain put a pillow over his head. He expected Mercedes to pull it away, but her disappointed face still got to him after all this time. "Can you at least cancel my dinner with my father?" 

"Thirty minutes." 

"Fifteen." 

"Thirty, and I'll make sure it's somewhere he hates." 

"... He's allergic to seafood." 

Mercedes was already pulling out her phone. "You two have reservations at the best seafood eatery in the city." 

Sylvain managed a smile despite his head cracking open and his stomach threatening to flip inside out. "You're the best, Mercie." 

"I know." She turned to head towards the door. "Annette, please make sure he cleans the vomit out of his hair. Last time, the hair team complained to me for hours about it." The door made a satisfying _thunk_ when she closed it behind her. 

Annette and Sylvain looked at each other not unlike a bull and a matador. Sylvain moved first.

"So, Annette—"

"Shower." She glared at him until he was deposited in the bathroom, slightly more awake with a breath mint and some water splashed on his face. 

He sighed. Then he got ready for another day. 

#

The _US Magazine_ interview was boring, but Sylvain didn't throw up during it and he got through to the end with only a few moments of spacing out, which was frankly pretty impressive. The photoshoot was dull and long, but they had cheese and crackers and Sylvain could eat that shit all day long if Mercedes let him. He was also too busy to really enjoy the catering, what with him being tossed like a ragdoll from one outfit into another with a swarm of makeup and hair specialists to touch up flawlessness between photos. He wasn't sure what the point of so much makeup was since they would just Photoshop the daylights out of him in post, but whatever. He just got paid to look pretty. 

Dinner sucked. Dinner sucked before they even stepped into the restaurant, his father looking at him like he was a particularly successful racehorse and not his own child. It was an apt metaphor — the Gautier fortune was built in the music industry. Sylvain's producer was owned by a shadow corporation that was linked to social media, trashy magazines, mobile app development, and overall Gautier wealth. 

"You should fire your makeup team; you look tired. Have you gained weight?" Wolfgang Brutus Gautier asked as a greeting. Sylvain rolled his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me — and fire your assistant. She keeps forgetting that I absolutely loathe seafood." 

The rest of the thirty minutes that Sylvain had to endure were pretty much the same as the first five. Thank God for Mercedes and a reliable phone system. Citing concerns over his tour dates, Sylvain dashed from the dinner disaster and went back to his hotel. He intended to drink, except— 

"Ingrid? What on Earth are you doing here?" Sylvain asked when he recognized the blonde. She was taller than the last time they saw each other. In contrast, her hair was much shorter. Still, it would be hard to forget the person he grew up next to, even if most of their communication nowadays was through Facebook likes. "Are you visiting?" 

"I live here," she said, which _ouch._ Sylvain had been in this city for how long? Fuck, he didn't even know what day it was. He made a note to ask Mercedes later. "I saw you tweet about being here and it wasn't too hard to figure out which hotel you'd be at. I'm surprised security let me in." 

"Mercedes probably looked you up and cleared you," Sylvain muned at the same time as Mercedes commented,

"I look up all of Sylvain's friends in every city and put you on the approved list in case you wanted to see him." 

Ingrid blushed. "Um, that's nice. I'm Ingrid — obviously. You must be his…?" 

"Agent and personal assistant. They're practically the same job." Mercedes smiled. "Sylvain, the car will pick you up here at eight. You need to change before going to the club at nine. If you are not here at eight, I will find you. Understood?" 

When Mercedes smiled, two things could happen. Birds could sing and land on her shoulders, babies could smile for the first time, and a chorus of angels could descend from heaven. Or the devil himself could shiver and go to fix whatever Mercedes had deemed wrong. In that moment, her smile went from the first one to the second one. 

Sylvain gulped. "Understood." 

Mercedes glanced at her phone. "You have an hour. Enjoy!" She left the room and immediately Sylvain was wrapped up in a hug. 

Ingrid smelled like vanilla. "I'm so glad to see you! I really didn't think I could, and I probably should have messaged you first, but you usually are bad at replying—" 

"It's okay. I'm happy to spend time with you." Sylvain laughed when Ingrid realized that there was glitter in Sylvain's hair. "Sorry about that, I just got back from a dinner and a photoshoot." 

"Yeah, I guess you must be pretty busy all the time." 

"Mostly when an album just got released or I have a tour coming up or I'm on tour. That kind of thing." Sylvain waved a hand. He walked over to the minibar and gestured across the shiny black top. "Want anything to drink?" 

"I… actually can't. I'm going to get coffee with… a friend later and I'm driving." 

"You're getting night coffee with someone? Is it a date?" Sylvain grinned. "Who is it? Is he cute?" 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "It's not a date, he's just performing at a coffee shop and I want to support him while he's in the area. If you absolutely want to know, it's Felix." 

Sylvain.exe failed to load in and he must have physically blue screened, because Ingrid sighed. Before she could say anything, Sylvain asked, "How is Felix?" 

"He's good. He's mostly wandering around different cities and performing where he can. I think he was in Canada for a while, but he came back here when it got colder." Ingrid shrugged. "I mostly follow his social media." 

"He has — he has social media?" Sylvain pulled his phone out, intent on adding Felix right then and there. At the very least, he could see what Felix was doing, what he was wearing, if he was with anyone— 

"His band does. Look up 1080." 

"I thought he swore off music?" Sylvain asked, even as he looked for 1080 on Facebook. The first few options were obviously ads, but he scrolled until he saw a minimalist logo and page with only a few hundred likes. 

1080 was, according to their Facebook page, an indie band with two members: Ashe Ubert and Felix Hugo. They toured North America's coffee shop scene and didn't have a manager, record label, or anything vaguely professional. Their only contact point was an email that was just 1080bandbooking@gmail.com. The last post was three hours ago, letting fans know that they'd be at _The Grey Teacup Cafe_ that night to perform a set. Three people liked it. 

It was such a far cry from Sylvain's own Facebook— which he didn't have any control over, hadn't actually posted on in years, but fans continually ate up whatever his social media team spat out. Speaking of which, he probably should text Bernie and see what she had planned… 

"Does his dad know?" Sylvain knew he sounded a bit incredulous, but he couldn't help it. The last time he and Felix had spoken… 

Ingrid snorted. "Of course not. I'm not even sure that Rodrigue knows that Felix is even in America." 

"Well, Felix never did like Europe all that much…" Sylvain's finger hovered over the _Like_ button. He closed his phone before he could make any bad decisions in favor of making an even worse one. "So, where's this coffee shop?" 

"Don't you have to be somewhere in an hour?" 

"I'll be fashionably late." 

Ingrid pursed her lips. "Well, you can't wear that. Everyone will recognize you from a hundred meters away." 

#

Sylvain felt a bit like an idiot, wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt and faded jeans and a beanie that covered his easily recognizable hair, but nobody gave him a second glance when he and Ingrid walked into _The Grey Teacup Cafe_ , so that was what mattered. He handed Ingrid a twenty, told her to get him the strongest coffee she could, and drifted towards the stage. She protested, but he was already gone. 

It was small, just enough room for two guys and their equipment. Ashe was a lanky guy with silver hair and beautiful green eyes. Honestly, in another circumstance, Sylvain probably would have tried sleeping with him. As it was, even a cute butt in grey skinny jeans couldn't distract him from Felix. 

Pale fingers tuned a weathered guitar, black hair pulled into a short ponytail, face cut with a familiar scowl. He wore dark blue jeans, a grey and white flannel, and a black leather jacket that was a few sizes too big. He kept moving his arms and shoulders in subtle ways that Sylvain barely noticed, all with the intention of keeping his sleeves out of his guitar frets. He was beautiful. He was beautiful. He was beau—

"Here you go," Ingrid said, handing Sylvain a black coffee. "I got two Espresso shots added. It was the most they'd do." 

"You're a lifesaver." Sylvain took a sip to try to calm his nerves. Predictably, it did the exact opposite. Had it always been so warm? "Are we saying hi now?" 

"No, after. He's getting in the zone." Ingrid tugged Sylvain into a seat. They weren't in the very front, so Sylvain could stare a little bit more without being totally obvious. 

Felix and Ashe swapped a few words, but for the most part they were quiet as they set up. There were two microphones, a guitar, a drum set, and an electric piano. Sylvain could only assume they swapped off of instruments. Unbidden thoughts of long nights swapping guitar riffs, challenging one another to do more and more impressive moves, seeing who could impersonate The Beatles or The White Stripes or whoever better— they all came back, unlocked from the Pandora's Box that Sylvain had shoved away. 

Thankfully, or horribly, Felix finished his set up and nodded to Ashe. The two took up their places; Felix had a guitar and Ashe was on the drums.

There was no introduction. Felix nodded to Ashe, who started playing the drums. A single beat, deep and shaking Sylvain to the core. Felix started the guitar and opened his mouth to sing. His voice was bright, startling clarity honed from years and years of brutal vocal training. 

But God, Sylvain was a mere mortal and Felix was ichor. 

_"Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel_

_Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels_

_But I am just a broken machine_

_And I do things that I don't really mean."_

His fingers slid over strings, eyes half-closed, his lips the center of Sylvain's attention. The coffee shop wasn't quiet from murmurs, soft conversations that were completely ignorant to the music being played. 

_Shut up,_ Sylvain wanted to shout. _This man is a prodigy. This man comes from one of the most talented families in the world. Show him some respect._ But he didn't. He couldn't take his eyes off Felix. 

_"Long black night_

_Morning frost_

_I'm still here_

_But all is lost."_

During the chorus, Felix and Ashe harmonized surprisingly well. Felix didn't stumble over a single bar and Ashe kept the beat steady, despite singing at a different rhythm. Sylvain had never heard of this Ashe guy, but he was talented — he had to be, no doubt, to keep up with Felix. 

The song ended and Sylvain clapped the loudest. Felix didn't even glance at him. 

"Thank you." Felix murmured into his microphone. "We are 1080, travelling indie band. That was _Cry For Judas_ . This is _Transcendental Youth._ " Nothing else, no build up or asking the crowd about their feelings or night. Felix didn't seem to even care about the audience. He was, honestly, a bit of a bad performer — he didn't try to engage the crowd, he didn't do any desperate mic grabs, and he didn't even flirt with the cute brunette who was giving him heart eyes in the front row. 

But he was a damn good musician. Of course he was. 

_“Pulled through broken baseboards_

_I despise this town_

_Snow on the sunroof_

_Two stories down_

_Hold hands_

_Wish the snow would melt_

_Rise in the darkness_

_Of the gathering day.”_

It was largely Felix singing and Ashe tapping a beat, but it was so pure and raw — and _God_ did it do strange things to Sylvain. 

_“Sing_

_Sing for ourselves alone_

_Speak into the microphone.”_

The set itself was short, maybe thirty minutes of perfection. The last song was just Felix on guitar, Ashe grabbing a bunch of CDs out of a backpack and setting up at the stage. Felix actually unplugged his guitar from the speaker since he didn't have to compete with the drums. 

Felix breathed the song title into the mic. " _Congratulations_."

The guitar was simple. Slow. He strummed on the strings with his eyes closed, his body…. Slumping, almost. A brief look behind the walls that Sylvain hadn't even realized were up. 

_"Get stomped like a snake_

_Lie down in the dirt_

_Cling to my convictions_

_Even when I get hurt."_

A key shift. 

_"Be an upstanding, well-loved man about town_

_In your child's mind that's how it goes down_

_But I try the losing side_

_I don't want to die in here_

_I don't want to die in here."_

He sped up. Slightly, desperately, voice almost breaking on a few notes but it was so raw that Sylvain couldn't rule out that it was on purpose. 

Oh, who was he kidding. It was on purpose. Felix never messed up a note. 

_"Drift down into the new dark light_

_Without any reservations_

_You found my breaking point_

_Congratulations."_

Felix's eyes flew open and he stared straight at Sylvain. He knew who he was, knew that this was the person he hadn't seen in over a decade. Felix's fingers stumbled for the first time that night, and yet he didn't look away. 

_"Spent too much of my life now trying_

_To play fair_

_Throw my better self overboard_

_Shoot at him when he comes up for air_

_Come unhinged_

_Get revenge_

_I don't want to die in here_

_I don't want to die in here."_

He suddenly let the guitar hang from the strap around his back, moving to the piano. He started playing a soft note, then evolving into a full string of them. It was beautiful. Sylvain didn't remember Felix playing the piano. He supposed he must have, but it was hard to compete with Glenn back then. 

_"Stay good under pressure for years and years and years and years_

_President of the fan club up there choking on his tears_

_Let all the trash rain down_

_From way up in the rafters_

_I'm walking out of here in one piece_

_Don't care what comes after."_

Then, silence. No music. No piano. Softly:

_"Drive the wedge_

_Torch the bridge_

_I don't want to die in here_

_I don't want to die in here."_

Felix played the last few notes. 

"Thank you, good night." He stepped back. Sylvain stood and clapped, not caring if he was the only person, but thankfully Ingrid and a few others joined in his enthusiasm. Felix looked at Sylvain with an unreadable expression, but Sylvain didn't care as he stared right back. 

Something in Sylvain's stomach flipped uncomfortably. He felt his mouth go dry. He opened his mouth to say something, but he suddenly forgot what words were. All that mattered was how vibrant Felix's eyes were and how the cut of his jaw was different than when Sylvain had last traced it with his guitar-calloused fingers. 

Ingrid grabbed Sylvain and pulled him out of his fuge. "Come on, let's go over." 

Ashe was selling CDs, clearly the more charismatic of the two. Felix was packing up, barely glancing over at Ashe sweet-talking two girls who ended up walking away with two CDs and a sticker. There wasn't exactly a lot of attention, which was a crime against musicality, but not surprising. Sylvain didn't think he had heard a more depressing set since his own high school phase.

Sylvain suddenly found himself holding back. Clearly Felix wasn't jumping to greet Sylvain, though that in and of itself wasn't surprising. But still, Sylvain thought that maybe Felix would have at least smiled at him or, well, done more than just stare at him. 

"Hello," Ashe said as Ingrid approached. "You're Felix's friends, right?" 

"Yeah! It's nice to meet you. I'm Ingrid. This is—" She hesitated, gesturing to Sylvain. He forced a smile to his face and gave Ashe a wave. 

"Hey." There was a moment where Sylvain thought he'd actually get away with his crappy disguise, but then Ashe's eyes went wide as dinner plates. Ashe didn't say anything, but he mouthed _Holy shit_ which was fair enough. "Hey, Fe." 

That got Felix's attention. He finished placing his guitar in a simple black case before glaring at Sylvain. 

"What do you want, asshole?" 

Ashe winced. Ingrid shook her head slowly, looking away like that would fix everything. 

"I really liked your set," Sylvain said. "You're really good." 

"I know." Felix moved over to the mics. He started to pack things away as efficiently as possible. There were still others in the shop, but most of them were doing their own thing. Not like Sylvain _wanted_ a ton of attention on himself, but he could be doing worse. 

"So, how do you know Felix?" Ashe asked Ingrid. 

"We all went to school together," she replied. 

Sylvain went to the edge of the stage. It really wasn't a proper stage, really just a raised area to the side of the cafe, but it served its purpose. Felix was still ignoring him, or at least pretending to do so. Sylvain could tell that he was trying too hard to keep his back towards Sylvain, turning and twisting around every time Sylvain moved. 

"Did you write everything?" Sylvain asked. 

"Ashe helped." Which could mean that Ashe read over the lyrics and gave his approval or that Ashe wrote everything with Felix's input. "I'll say it again. What do you want?" 

"I — I just wanted to say hi." 

"Hi. Go away. Don't you have something better to do?" 

Sylvain's phone was on mute. He didn't even want to check it. Mercedes would yell at him later, or really just chide him in her painfully sweet way. But yes, he had things to do, but he wouldn't call them better things. 

"I'm glad you're playing again." Sylvain could have kicked himself. "I mean — I know how much you liked it. And I always thought you were better than I was." 

"I am better than you." Felix put down the cable that he was coiling. Sylvain didn't know that Felix knew how to do any kind of tech stuff. They certainly hadn't learned in school. "If this is some weird pity party—" 

"Never." Sylvain cleared his throat. "I'm glad I got to see — to see you. Can I — what's your number?" 

A moment passed. 

"Why, so you can never talk to me again?" 

Sylvain winced. It was understandable, but still— 

"I didn't mean to—" 

"Sure, of course not." Felix glanced over at Ashe. "You ready to go?" 

Ashe glanced between Sylvain and Felix. Before he could say anything—

"Is that Godot?" 

"Oh my God! It is, it's him!" 

"Can you take a picture with me? My friends are going to flip." 

"Wow, you're so cute in real life. And so strong. Can you pick me up?" 

Sylvain found himself melting away, a sudden swarm of people all looking to get a slice of him. Felix didn’t even glance in his direction. 

#

Mercedes, for the rest of the build up to his concert, watched him like a goddamn hawk. An angry one with sharp talons and a beak made out of metal. But also a caring one that made you disappointed for everything you messed up. So, the short of it was that Sylvain didn't protest too much when he was dropped off at the studio a bit early. 

Five hours early. 

With Annette and Bernadetta as his babysitters. 

Ah, the glorious life of a world famous pop star. 

"Hey, Bernie, what are my chances of getting a drink before my next interview?" Sylvain asked, toying with a cheap guitar. 

Bernadetta gulped. She looked up from her phone, her glasses sliding halfway down her nose. "Um, unlikely… Mercedes did say that you aren't allowed to have anything but water and fresh fruit…" 

"Okay, but if I don't have anything with caffeine in it, I'm going to fall asleep. Where's Annette? I'll even let her grab me a coffee so you know that I didn't spike it." 

"Oh… Okay. I think Annette is coming back soon. We can wait for her?”

Sylvain wasn’t in such a bad mood as to take it out, unfairly, on his own friend, so he just shrugged. “Sure.”

“Good." Bernadetta went back to her phone. "Which of these photos do you like the most?" She turned the screen so he could see. 

She was composing an Instagram post. Sylvain scrolled through the photos she had downloaded. They were all from his last photoshoot, but edited to all hell. He could barely even remember taking half of them, but he ended up picking one where he was blowing glitter at the camera.

"Is it for tonight?" He asked. 

"Yeah! Oh, that's a really good one. You got so many good photos yesterday. I'm sure that Mercedes was happy even after your stunt…" She trailed off. "Not like it was, um, horrible of you to do! Just it was really inconvenient and ended up messing up a lot of things and — eep! Don't look at me like that!" 

Sylvain blinked. "What? No, I'm just — it's funny." 

"What's funny? Oh no, is there something on my face?" She started rubbing her face almost frantically. Her phone was forgotten in her lap. "Oh, please tell me when I get it off." 

"No, no, there's nothing on your face. I was just thinking how it's funny that, back when you first started, you barely wanted to be in the same room as me. Now, you're okay talking to me like a friend." Sylvain gave her a faint smile. "At least, hopefully friends." 

Bernadetta blushed vibrantly. "I… yes, I hope we're friends. Right? That is what you were trying to say?" 

"Yes, it is." Sylvain chuckled. "So, what's the promo for tonight?" 

"Oh!" Bernadetta grabbed her phone back up and started typing up the post. "W-Well, we're trying to hype up your tour! And you're performing _This Is Gospel_ for the first time, so we want to have all your fans tune in." Without hesitating, she started typing out a post. She added a few hashtags, proofread it, and posted it. 

Sylvain reached out his hand and, when Bernie gave him her phone, read what she had typed. 

_Get hyped!!! Interview & performing on Jimmy Kimmel tonight @ 9 PST. See you there! _

Then there were a bunch of hashtags. Sylvain hadn't had control over his public social media since he was in high school, but Bernie was good at what she did. Much better than the last person. 

"Nice." Sylvain grinned. "So, are you touring with me?" 

Bernadetta somehow went even more red. "Um, I — I don't know yet. I g-guess that Mercedes will let me know?" 

"Hey, has Sylvain run off yet?" Annette walked in, plastic bag in one hand. "Oh, hey, Sylvain." 

"You don't have to sound so surprised!" Sylvain scowled, but perked up at the smell of food. "Is that Chinese? Hell yeah." He stood and grabbed the bag from her. "Thanks. What's the bribe for?" 

Annette cleared her throat, rocking back and forth on her heels. "What? Why does there have to be a bribe? Who said anything about a bribe?" 

Sylvain decided that he'd take it. "Uh huh. Well, thanks for the food. Oh, Bernie, do you want any?" 

"No! No, thank you." Bernadetta stood up, giving Annette a small wave. "Um, can — can I go for a bit and get some air?" 

"I think we both should step out, actually. Are you familiar with this studio? I'll show you around." Before Bernie could protest, Annette grabbed her arm and dragged her out. 

Sylvain was left holding the bag. Before he could ask if this was some kind of a loyalty test, he realized that he wasn't alone. 

Felix stood in the doorway, looking around like he was five seconds away from being thrown out before schooling his features into that frustratingly vague and handsome neutrality. 

"Um, are you here to murder me or…?" 

Felix rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's not about you." 

"Well, you're the one standing in my dressing room after ignoring me last night," Sylvain pointed out. 

The faint flush on Felix's face made Sylvain's heart skip a beat. He crossed his arms and scowled. "I'm — I'm not in your dressing room!" 

"Right, you're in my doorway. Whatever." Sylvain stopped as two chattering crew members walked by. Neither of them no much glanced at Felix or Sylvain, but it reminded him that this wasn't exactly private. "Look, I know you hate the media and I hate the media, so can you at least come in and close the door?" 

Felix stepped inside and shut the door with a _thunk_. The two of them stared at each other. Sylvain gestured to his food. 

"Mind if I eat?" 

"I can't stop you." 

That was close enough to approval, so Sylvain sat back down and used his lap as a table. It was lo mein, the kind from a real Chinese restaurant and one that his personal trainer would have a heart attack if he saw him eating. Annette probably wasn't supposed to feed him at all, but…

"How do you know Annette?" Sylvain asked. 

"She's friends with Ashe. He got in touch and she said she could get me in." Felix shifted back and forth, crossing and uncrossing his arms. "I wanted to talk." 

"Well, you have—" Sylvain checked his phone, "—Twenty minutes to talk before I need a touch-up with makeup before my next interview." 

Felix scoffed. "God, I can't believe I thought this was a good idea." He reached behind him, aiming for the doorknob, but his fingers slipped against the handle. Sylvain stood, a few noodles in his mouth. He swallowed before saying,

"Wait. I'm sorry." 

Felix froze. Sylvain set his takeout aside so that he could walk over to Felix, but stopped when he saw Felix tense like Sylvain was going to slap him. Or worse, kiss him. 

"I messed up." Sylvain couldn't remember the last time he genuinely apologized to someone. He didn't know if he remembered how. 

"Yeah." 

"I got busy and my phone got put under lockdown — but I'm not here to make excuses. I wanted to reach out, but I couldn't find you anywhere. And by then I thought that you didn't want to talk." 

"I… I didn't for a while, no." Felix sighed. "Look, I just wanted to know what happened. I thought — whatever, it doesn't matter." 

Sylvain frowned. "What do you mean? Of course it does. We — here." He took his phone out and got to the _Add A Contact_ section. He held it out to Felix. "So we don't lose touch this time." 

Felix stared at the phone. Sylvain felt his heart plummet. Then, slowly, Felix peeled himself away from the door and grabbed Sylvain's phone. He entered his information in, texted himself, and then passed it back. 

"I'm glad that I saw you," Sylvain said. "Haven't heard guitar that good in years." 

"Yeah, sure." Felix didn't sound convinced. Sylvain wasn't sure what else to say. 

"So you and Ashe…?" 

Felix made a face. "You're presuming a lot from a conversation." 

"Sorry." 

Felix snorted. "Whatever. No, we aren't. I don't have time for that." 

Sylvain almost asked if Felix could make time, but he didn't want to know the answer. Besides, it was a bit hypocritical. Sylvain was the one with the packed schedule. 

"Are you going to be in the city this weekend? Opening night, Staples Center. I can get you both front row tickets and a pass to meet the band. And me, of course." Sylvain winked. He couldn't help it. 

Felix twitched, almost turning around. "I don't like your music." 

Than hurt more than it should have. Sylvain still smiled. 

"It's an acquired taste, yeah, but it's popular." 

"It's canned and mechanical. There's more synths and samples in a single bar than I've used in my entire life. Your writing team is crap and your production team won't stop using auto tune as if you can't hit every single note that they write." 

"Hey, I'm not autotuned. Much." Sylvain had to laugh. "And wow, I'm flattered that you think I can hit a G." 

Felix smirked. "Maybe if you're not dancing on stage like you're turning tricks." Felix went beet red. "Not — Not that I would know." 

Sylvain cackled. "I thought you didn't like my music." 

"I don't. I just — Ashe makes me watch stuff and some of your songs are annoyingly catchy." Felix crossed his arms. His scowl did little to hide the red hue in his cheeks. "I'll take the tickets for Ashe because he'll never let me live it down if I say no. Got it?" 

"Uh huh, sure." Sylvain glanced at his phone. _Felix_ _Hugo_ was the name Felix had entered in. Sylvain looked back up, but before he could even ask, Felix said,

"I've been going by a different name so Rodrigue can't find me." Well, that certainly answered the next five questions Sylvain had. 

There was a knock on the door. Both of them jumped. 

"Godot, your makeup team is en route." It was one of the PAs. 

"They're early," Sylvain complained. He didn't get a response. He saw Felix roll his eyes. "What's that for?" 

Felix gestured with one hand, pointing at Sylvain like that was the answer. Sylvain just found himself more confused. Felix let out a sigh. "All this. It's just — so pretentious. Do you actually write any of your music, or is it all your team?" 

"I write most of my hits." 

"Yeah, sure. Enough to get credit on the cover." Felix shook his head. "Also, _Godot_ is a crappy alias."

"It's classy."

"It's pretentious," Felix echoed. 

"Just because it's a reference—"

"Have you even seen _Waiting for Godot_?" Felix asked. 

Sylvain threw his hands up. "Yes! I did! With you, in the original French, when we were kids. You thought it was boring and I told you to call me Gogo but you wouldn't let me call you Didi." 

The silence stretched between them. Felix shook his head. 

"I don't remember that."

"We were kids. Miklan refused to come, so we invited you down for the weekend." 

“I believe you,” Felix snapped, “I just don’t remember it.” 

More silence. 

"How much do you talk to Ingrid?" Felix asked. 

"How much do you?" Sylvain countered. 

By the incline in Felix's head, he conceded that point. 

The two of them looked at one another. Sylvain, out of lack of something else to do, stuck his hands in his pockets. His clothes were custom tailored and dry cleaned, picked out from a catalogue from people who made a living choosing fashionable clothes. Felix, on the other hand, was wearing the same exact clothes from last night, except his flannel was red and black. His hair was in a sloppy ponytail and he had dark circles under his eyes. 

Sylvain didn't want to look away. So he didn't. He stared right at Felix and Felix stared right back. 

"Are you—" 

"I should—"

"No, go ahead—"

"This is stupid." Felix scowled. "Text me if you even have the time." He reached for the door. Sylvain was coward enough to let him grab the handle before blurting out, 

"I will. I promise." 

This time, Felix didn't turn around or say anything. He left. Sylvain didn't stop him. 

#

Ashe was on the bed in their shitty motel room, his laptop open and plugged into the wall. He barely looked up from his work when Felix entered. He was in jeans and a faded _Green Day_ T-shirt, hardly anything fancy but clearly not his pajamas. 

"Hey, I'm going out later," he said, scrolling on his laptop. "Also, we have another gig for Sunday. Little restaurant that wants us there for a bit doing instrumentals. Nothing fancy, but they're paying us." He did look up when Felix chucked one boot against the wall, the other to follow soon after. Ashe raised an eyebrow. Felix glared at him. 

Silence. Then Ashe looked away. 

"So your meeting went well, I take it," he drawled. Felix went right for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Felix turned the sink tap on so the water could drown out Ashe's attempts at communication. He felt a bit sick, stomach churning and head pounding. Almost feeling hungover, he sat on the toilet with the lid down. About a minute passed before Ashe knocked on the door. 

"You still alive in there?" 

"Yeah. Just... sick. Have a fun night." Felix winced at the sound of his own voice. 

Ashe hummed before tapping the door again. "Okay, but I'll leave my phone on. Text me if you need anything. And don't do anything stupid." His light footsteps were barely audible or the running water. Felix turned the faucet off so he could hear Ashe put his stuff away, tug his shoes on, and head out. 

They were staying at a cheap Motel 6, a single bed all they could afford. If Ashe ever was tempted to try to get Felix to tap into his trust fund, he never said anything. That was good, because short of being near death, Felix had no intentions of ever using his father's money again. 

Felix was used to not having a lot of privacy anymore. He and Ashe got along well enough, but there was something to be said about having to spend long hours in a cramped car together and trying not to hog the blankets too much. It was… a lot. So it was nice when Ashe went out or Felix went out because it gave at least have one of them the space for a few hours. 

He took a quick shower, changing into a ratty T-Shirt and sweatpants, before taking up space in the bed. It was too early for him to sleep, but he was too lazy to go find his laptop amongst his things. The equipment was all piled into the room, barely giving them a walkway let alone space for their own stuff, but it couldn't be left in their minivan. 

God, Felix drove a minivan. His highschool self would be so disappointed. 

He saw that he had a text from an unknown number — Sylvain's — and added Sylvain to his contact list. Something in Felix's heart twisted when he realized he had never, after all this time, gotten rid of Sylvain's old number. Damn contact importing. 

Once that was done, he found himself opening up YouTube and going to his secret playlist. Embarrassment twisted at his stomach as he looked to the door, just checking that it was closed and Ashe wasn't going to burst in unknowingly. Felix almost backed out and did something else, anything else, but he was already feeling like shit and figured that his guilt and disgust couldn't get any worse. 

The music video was exactly two minutes, fifty seconds long, and Felix had every single frame seared into his mind. 

Sylvain — no, _Godot_ — winked at the camera. His hair was mused, his eyes lined with gold eyeliner, lips cherry red. He was shirtless, lounging on a poolside chair, only a pair of red swim shorts clinging to his hips. 

It was a catchy song, which was Felix's excuse. And everyone knew that the only way to get a song out of one's head was to listen to it… a lot.

_"When I hear that sound,_

_I know what's coming 'round._

_39 degrees,_

_Too hot for the bees._

_The grass is turning yellow,_

_Streets are slow and mellow._

_The faucet keeps on dripping_

_And the clock it keeps on ticking!"_

The camera angle pulled back and showed that Sylvain was surrounded by hot girls scantily clad in bikinis. Sylvain just had eyes for the camera as he sung, almost like he was talking right to the viewer. He leaned forward and started crawling forward on the chair even as the camera zoomed back in. 

_"The smell of colored plastic,_

_Baking in the sun_

_Sweet just like frustration,_

_My sense on the run._

_I want your ice cream!_

_I want it lying in the sun!_

_I want your ice cream!_

_I want it melting on my tongue!"_

A vanilla ice cream cone was pushed in frame, held by a manicured hand. Sylvain half sung, half toyed with the treat. It couldn't be said that he was eating it, because he got more ice cream on his face than his own mouth. The shot was painfully long, Sylvain's tongue darting in and out and the ice cream melting around him until his mouth and nose were covered in white. 

The shot cut to him dancing poolside, still surrounded by hot girls. He was wearing a lifeguard vest and the girls had those lifesaving tubes that they kept suggestively putting between their legs. Sylvain had a pair of sunglasses on, but when the chorus hit again he threw them off. 

Suddenly, he was laying on the front of an ice cream van. He was shirtless again, his abs getting covered in vanilla ice cream. Well, his entire chest was — there were more hands dripping ice cream over him as he sang. Sylvain ignored the mess and just grinned at the camera. No, not grinned. 

Smirked. 

Felix knew what he would be doing while Ashe was gone. 

# 

It was a huge stadium. Felix had only been to Staples Center once, back when he was younger and just visiting the States rather than cross-country trekking it in a beat-up van. The place was decked out and clearly designed to give Sylvain the most room possible. It was built in three major platforms. There was the actual stage of course, which had bare bulbs along the edges. Then there was a second platform on top of that, a simple circle that had most of the instruments. The last platform was vaguely heart shaped and just had a mic as well as what Felix guessed were fog machines or pyrotechnics placed there. All three were connected by gleaming black stairs. 

Felix didn't even want to know how much a normal ticket would cost, and he and Ashe were in the front row. It wasn't actually all that pleasant. Felix was already sweating through his leather jacket and the majority of Sylvain's fans seemed to be either teenaged girls or middle aged moms. They pressed up against him in total disregard for personal space, treating him more like an annoying obstacle than anything else. 

If it weren't for how genuinely excited Ashe looked, Felix probably would have left. At least, that's what he told himself when a girl dumped her soda all or his boots.

"Sorry!" She squeaked. 

_Ugh,_ Felix thought. 

A laugh echoed through the stadium, which went dark. Cheering threatened to deafen Felix. It faded as another laugh rolled through the crowd, the audio feed purposely faint. 

"Hey, LA… hope you weren't waiting too long," Sylvain said. The girl next to Felix screamed. 

An electric beat started up, repeating in a short loop. Fog rolled over the stage as the band took their places. Lights began to flutter on and off. Then, with a drumroll worthy of an execution, Sylvain ascended from below the stage, appearing on top of the highest platform. 

_"Dance."_

The lights flashed, giving Felix a half second view of Sylvain. He was wearing a sheer black shirt, a red jacket, and torn up blue jeans. His hair was artfully mused, there was glitter in his hair, and his eyeliner was sharp enough to kill a man. It certainly did things to Felix's heart.

The lights began to pulse, the music beating in time. 

_"Back door cracked_

_We don't need a key_

_We get in for free_

_No VIP please._

_Drink that kool-aid_

_Follow my lead_

_Now you're one of us_

_You're coming with me."_

Sylvain actually did his own vocals on tour, or at least he was tonight. Felix could hear the backing vocals, which were normal, but it was mostly just Sylvain singing. Sure, it was a pop song so there was still distortion on his vocals, but it was more real than he was honestly expecting. 

And maybe Felix was a little distracted by how Sylvain was practically making out with his mic, pulling it close and not looking at the audience. It was like his whole world was this little thing between his fingers and by his mouth. 

He was surrounded by lights and smoke and all sorts of ridiculous show nonsense, but there was no question that he was the center of attention. He commanded the stage, the entire stadium. The roar of the crowd was nothing compared to how he sung, his hips gyrating to the music. 

_"This place about to blow!"_

As the chorus came in, dancers of all genders ran on stage. Sylvain dashed down the stairs, grabbing a hand mic from one of them, and started to dance. He was pretty good, better than Felix remembered, even with half his attention on singing. 

_"It's time to lose your mind_

_And let the crazy out_

_Tonight we're taking names_

_Cause we don't mess around_

_This place about to blow!"_

Sparks flew from the top part of the platform, falling over the dancers in a visual illusion that made it look like they were being bathed in light. Felix assumed the sparks were actually in front of them, but it looked damn good. Felix might hate the music, but Sylvain's concert knew where its bread was buttered and stuck to it. 

The music dropped, just a synth in the background. A single spotlight focused on Sylvain. Even the dancers froze in all manner of positions. 

_"Go insane_

_Go insane_

_Throw some glitter_

_Make it rain on them_

_Let me see them Haynes_

_Let me, let me see them Haynes_

_We are taking over!_

_Get used to it."_

The song ended with another flash of light and Sylvain actually took a moment to grin at the audience. He was already soaked in sweat. Felix had no idea how he would perform for another hour and so. 

The music shifted, drums starting to take over. Felix realized they were shifting into Sylvain's more modern stuff. He kind of hated how he knew that. The crowd didn't seem dissuaded at all, the cheering somehow growing louder. 

Sylvain smirked. Felix wanted to punch his smug face. 

_"Are you worth your weight in gold?_

_'Cause you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone_

_Hey stranger, I want ya to catch me like a cold_

_You and God both got the guns_

_When you shoot, I think I'd duck_

_I led the revolution in my bedroom_

_And I set all the zippers free_

_We said, "No more war, no more clothes, give me peace_

_Oh, kiss me"_

_Hey, hey_

_We are a hurricane!"_

It was an illusion done by clever staging, but Felix could have sworn Sylvain was looking at him. Of course he wasn't — that sort of thing happened in movies and television and the lights were too bright for anyone to see anyone, let alone Felix who was wearing dark clothes in a dark crowd. 

But. He could pretend. 

_"You'll dance to anything_

_You'll dance to anything_

_You'll dance to anything_

_You'll dance to anything_

_Fix me or conflict me_

_I'll take anything_

_Fix me or just conflict me 'cause I'll take anything."_

Sylvain strode across the stage, his vocals punching Felix in the gut each time. He was simultaneously in the present, surrounded by sweaty bodies and pulsing lights and screaming fans, but also in his dorm room, almost a decade ago, listening to Sylvain strum on his guitar and sing softly in his native French. 

It was intimacy exposed to the world, Sylvain confessing his weakness and asking for a shelter, and nobody was listening. Oh, they heard him. But they didn't understand. 

Or Felix was being delusional, thinking too far into something that was stupid and pop and just made to sell the most albums as Sylvain pranced across the stage like a drama queen. 

Even before the beat for the song ended, another synth started. This time, though, it went on for an extended period of time. There was a mixed cheer, which caught Felix off-guard. Instinctively, he glanced at Ashe. 

He said something, but he was entirely inaudible as a goddamn canon seemed to go off. A whole plume of smoke rolled across stage, lit from behind so a woman's silhouette was visible. 

_"Just dance._

_J-J-Just dance."_

"Allegra Moon!" Sylvain shouted, extending out her name as she began singing. 

She was hot and wasn't wearing much and Felix kind of hated her on principle. She also, unfortunately, was a very good singer. Felix had heard of her in passing, but he had never bothered to listen to her music. Even with the reverb on her vocals, she was clearly strong — actually, Felix would be hard-pressed to say whether he was better than her on a purely technical standpoint. 

So he couldn't hate her entirely. Damn. 

_"Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?_

_I can't remember but it's alright, a-alright_

_Just dance, gonna be okay, da da doo-doo-mmm_

_Just dance, spin that record, babe, da da doo-doo-mmm_

_Just dance, gonna be okay, d-d-d-dance_

_Dance, dance, just, j-j-just dance!"_

She and Sylvain sung the chorus together, staring at one another as the dancers surrounded them. Her skin glistened from spray-on glitter and she had over-the-top make-up on, but somehow she managed to fit right in with Sylvain. The two of them worked well together, anticipating the other's vocal quirks and embellishments. 

They didn't touch, but it was a near thing. Felix wouldn't have been one to call it sexual tension, but there was something there. He didn't like it. He hated that he cared at all. 

_"Half psychotic, sick, hypnotic_

_Got my blueprint, it's symphonic_

_Half psychotic, sick, hypnotic_

_Got my blueprint electronic."_

They harmonized during the hook, the music actually completely silent. There was no synth, no drum beat, not even a bit of trill on their voices. It was pure vocals. It was real music. 

Then it was taken over by the flash of a light and the drop of a beat. 

_"Half psychotic, sick, hypnotic_

_Got my blueprint, it's symphonic_

_Half psychotic, sick, hypnotic_

_Got my blueprint electronic_

_Go!"_

#

"I'm so glad that you guys could make it," Sylvain said over the bass that pounded through the club. He had his third drink in one hand, his feet felt like death, and he craved sleep. Alas, he had to be at the party at least for another few hours, socializing and celebrating the kickoff of his tour. 

"Of course! Thank you so much for the tickets," Ashe said. "You're such a good artist. When you got on the piano and started singing _This Is Gospel_ — that was so good! Did you arrange that yourself?" Usually, praise was empty or only from people looking to further their own agendas. It was refreshing to have Ashe so open about it. 

"Yeah, I did! Thank you," Sylvain replied earnestly. He looked at Felix, who seemed to be doing his best to glare in multiple directions at once. "What did you think?" 

Felix focused on him and God, could that gaze make Sylvain want to get on his knees and weep. 

“It was fine. Your audio technicians are a bit slow.” Well. It was better than Felix saying that he hated it, so Sylvain would take it. 

“Oh, Godot, there you are!” It was some producer from the studio — honestly, Sylvain couldn’t remember his name if his life depended on it. He still put on a smile as the man slung an arm over his shoulders, ignoring how sweaty and gross Sylvain probably was. “It’s looking like tonight was good — just talked with your social media girl, Bertha, and she said your engagement is through the roof!”

Sylvain nodded, trying to be polite but also not really wanting to deal with his professional obligations. “Awesome. Hey, I think that my dad was looking for you—” It was pathetic how quickly the man peeled away, going to look for the senior Gautier. Sylvain looked at the others, a weak smile on his face. “So, um, did you want to meet Dorothea — Allegra?” 

Ashe’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Wait, we can — I can meet her?”

Despite his growing awkwardness, Sylvain managed to give Felix a cocky grin. “Why can’t you be more like Ashe? He’s got a good eye for music.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone is here to stroke your ego. Some of us have better things to do.” Felix crossed his arms. “Are there any drinks here? Ashe, you’re driving home.” It wasn’t a question. He also didn’t wait until his friend answered, just walking off into the crowd. Sylvain tried not to be too disappointed. 

“Dorothea!” He cried out, waving her down. He had to shout over the music, which was hard considering how wrecked his voice was. He’d be chugging honey-laced tea tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s issue. He grinned a genuine grin as she walked over. She was wearing a nice dress, not just the skimpy piece that she had on when they were performing. “Enjoying the party?” 

“Of course. You always know how to treat a girl well.” She kissed him on the cheek, which was mirrored by him. “And hello! What’s your name?” Dorothea asked Ashe. 

Once he was certain that Ashe and Dorothea could entertain one another, Sylvain went to track down Felix. His instincts told him that Felix wouldn’t be in the club anymore, and he was right — as soon as he left the club and walked not half a minute down the block, he saw Felix nursing a drink and scrolling on his phone. Felix was leaning against a wall, one foot propped up in a move that was one Sylvain did last week for his photoshoot. 

The sound of Sylvain’s footsteps alerted Felix enough so he could glance up, but he just went back to his phone. Sylvain snorted. 

There was something… refreshing about someone who clearly didn’t treat him any better than anyone else. 

“Too loud?” He joked. 

“Too obnoxious.” Felix put his phone away. He did a convincing show of looking at Sylvain, but it was obvious to Sylvain that he was looking over Sylvain’s left shoulder. _Well, I guess you never did get better at eye contact,_ Sylvain thought. “Shouldn’t you be in there with all your adoring fans?”

“They don’t miss me.” Sylvain leaned on the wall next to Felix. “So, where are you and Ashe staying?”

“None of your business.” 

“I can get you rooms at my hotel. Nicest place in the city.”

“I’d rather die.” 

“Are you actually here of your own free will, or did Ashe force you to come?” 

Felix rolled his eyes. “Is it so impossible for you to believe that I wanted to see how you performed? Which, like I said, was fine. You were a bit pitchy and your audio technicians were covering up for you being out of breath during the longer dance pieces, but… it wasn’t horrible.” Felix crossed his arms and glared at the ground.

Sylvain laughed. “Coming from you, that’s high praise indeed.” 

He swallowed as a car drove past. It didn’t stop, no paparazzi jumped out and started harassing him. Good, because he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that and he had no doubt that Felix would run at the slightest implication of his photo ending up somewhere his father could see. 

“I’m glad you came,” Sylvain confessed. A moment passed between them. 

“I… am glad that I went.” Felix sighed. His shoulders heaved with the effort. He looked beautiful in the pale lamplight. Then again, Sylvain always thought he looked beautiful. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Sylvain blurted out. Felix raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. Sylvain could have stopped himself, but he was tired and a bit drunk and he was flying out tomorrow for San Diego and he didn’t know when he’d see Felix next. “I… Fuck, I missed you so much, Fe.” 

He leaned down but hesitated at the last second. He glanced at Felix’s lips and then his eyes. Felix’s eyes were wide as saucers, but he didn’t move. Sylvain took that as permission and kissed him. 

Felix’s lips were chapped. He was shorter than Sylvain remembered, or maybe Sylvain was taller. Felix bunched his hands up in Sylvain’s shirt, but he didn’t push him off. He didn’t pull him closer either, but Sylvain was fine with that. Yes, there was a part of him that wanted to make out and neck like teenagers, but there was something absolutely bright and giddy about just pressing his lips against Felix’s, something that made him never want this to end. 

One of Sylvain’s hands pressed against the wall, but the other cupped Felix’s jaw. Yesterday’s stubble was rough under his fingers. Sylvain, in all his philandering ways, had forgotten what it was like to kiss another man. 

They broke apart, Sylvain light-headed and Felix breathing heavily. There was a glazed-over look on his face and Sylvain couldn’t help but smirk.

“Everything you remembered it being?” 

Felix slugged him in the shoulder. Sylvain yelped. That was going to bruise. 

“Dick.” But Felix was blushing and not running away, so Sylvain still counted it as a win. “When do you leave?” 

It hurt a bit, how it was _when_. 

“... Tomorrow,” Sylvain confessed. Felix snorted and now he took a step back. Sylvain could practically see Felix’s walls slam back up.

“Of course. Typical.”

“I — I don’t want to lose you,” Sylvain repeated. “I’ll call every night. Send you a picture every hour. Whatever you want.” 

For a moment, Felix was silent. Then he shrugged.

“Whatever you want.” He glanced up at Sylvain and, for a moment, their eyes met. “We’ll talk after your tour. If you’re still interested.” 

  
“I will be.” _I always have been._

#

_June 23rd_

_@godotgotmyheart33 tweeted: So excited to see @the_real_godot tonight!!! Best artist of our time, haters don’t interact!_

_@godotmarrymepls replied: omg please tell us all about it!!!!!!_

_@godotgotmyheart33 replied: I will of course! I’ll take a few videos~_

_June 30th_

_@chirpchirp47 tweeted: idk about you guys but does Godot seem like tired recently??? I saw his interview w Vogue and guy looks like he needs to sleep for a week..._

_@chirpchirp47 tweeted: LRT not hating on him, I can’t imagine how hard it is to tour, just concerned._

_July 4th_

_@reddalmation__ tweeted: hey @the_real_godot blink twice if they have you hostage._

_@chillycheeseits replied: yeah the dude looked like a corpse last night…_

_July 10th_

_@chasingcrackships tweeted: is it true that Godot fell on stage the other night??? is he okay???_

_@godotgotmyheart33 replied: he did :((((( there’s a video on youtube but I feel so bad just watching it…._

_@chasingcrackships replied: oh no, I hope he’s fine…_

_July 11th_

_@godotmarrymepls tweeted: is Godot still doing his DC show tmrw??? I got tickets and I’m going to cry if it’s cancelled,,,,_

_@the_real_godot replied: Looking forward to seeing all my DC fans, including you~_

_@godotmarrymepls tweeted:_ _OH MY GOD I THINK IM DEAD IM IN HEAVEN THATS THE ONLY EXPLANATION!!!!! asdfghjl;’lhlljkj’_

_July 14th_

_@the_real_godot tweeted: Thank you for all the kind wishes! Promise I only needed a tissue, I’m totally fine and will be continuing with the rest of the tour. NYC, you’re next~_

_@godotgotmyheart33 replied: Take care of yourself!_

_@bro_u_my_world replied: a real musician would have just gone forward with the concert instead of interrupting everything for something like a tissue :/_

_@tteeeenntitian replied: Shut up, he’s 1000x better than you’ll ever be._

#

“You look like crap. Isn’t it, like, midnight over there? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Felix asked in lieu of a greeting. Oh, who was Sylvain kidding. That _was_ Felix’s greeting. 

Sylvain laughed. He didn't have any makeup on, his hair was still damp from the shower, and he wasn't able to block out the noise of the city that never sleeps. He didn't care about any of that, not while he was looking at Felix on his phone screen. 

"It's only eleven. Besides, I didn't do much today. Just some promo shots and then I had an interview with Colbert." 

Felix snorted. "Yeah, I saw that. Not like I watched it—" He hastily corrected, the tips of his ears going pink. Sylvain's heart clenched. He covered it up with another laugh, which only made Felix blush more, which made Sylvain's stomach twist up further— 

"It's okay, I don't think I said anything intelligent anyways," Sylvain joked. 

"Unsurprising." Felix glanced away from his phone, then back at Sylvain. "When's your show?" 

"Uh, tomorrow. I think." Sylvain wasn't sure he could say what day it was now. Hell, he didn’t know what month it was half the time. Tours were brutal like that. "Mercedes will tell me what I'm doing." 

Felix gave him a different look, one that Sylvain couldn't quite make heads or tails of, and it was gone before he could ask about it. It was replaced with careful neutrality, which made Sylvain certain that Felix was hiding something. 

"Your publicist has been working overtime or what?" The question caught Sylvain off guard and he actually asked Felix to rephrase it. _Maybe I'm more tired than I thought_. "Your tour's still getting great reviews even though even your most loyal fans think that you're half a heartbeat from death. But no one's calling for your head because I think you've replied to every tweet you've gotten." 

"Oh, Bernie's just my social media manager. She's great. I'll try to get her a raise." 

"So you really don't control any of your social media." 

Sylvain nodded. Felix snorted. 

"Typical." 

"It really is. Do you think that someone with my tendency to go off the rails is allowed anywhere near my own Twitter?" 

Felix scowled. "You're not some animal. Besides, any of your idiotic fans should know what to expect from you." Something softened in the corners of Felix's lips. "You haven't been partying as much, have you?" 

Sylvain couldn't help the goofy grin from sprawling across his lips. "I've had other things to do in the evenings." _Ah, there's the blush._

"Yeah, well, when you actually pass out on stage because you aren't sleeping enough, it isn't my fault." 

"Well…" Sylvain trailed off based on the sheer intensity of Felix's glare. "You're distracting," he said instead. 

"You're an idiot." 

Silence. Felix turned his head, leaning a bit out of the camera so Sylvain could see a glimpse of whatever shitty motel he and Ashe were at. The light was on, so Sylvain assumed Ashe either in the room trying to ignore Felix or out doing something fun. Selfishly, Sylvain hoped Ashe was out. 

"Sorry," Felix said. "Thought I heard Ashe coming back. He likes giving me all sorts of shit for… for talking with you." 

_Vindication,_ Sylvain thought. He only felt a bit bad about it. 

"He's worried about what? Your reputation? Can't be seen with the local bad boy, huh?" 

"Can't be seen with Godot, the international pop sensation, or God forbid what my father—" Felix snapped his jaw shut. 

"Sorry," Sylvain said automatically. 

"Not your fault." 

"I know what a shitty father is like." Sylvain didn't quite know what had happened between graduation and Felix leaving Europe and practically changing his name, but he could guess. He'd eat his hat if it wasn't because of words slung after Glenn died. 

As cruel as it was, sometimes Sylvain wished that his father had wanted him dead instead of his brother. God knows that Sylvain would have handled it better than Miklan. 

"So, tell me about your day!" Sylvain said, plastering on a cheerful grin. It didn't quite pass Felix's muster, but it was enough to get Felix to describe where he and Ashe were and how much of a nightmare it was trying to get through traffic in a shitty van. 

It was nice, honestly, hearing Felix talk about his problems. They were… Well, Sylvain hesitated to call them mundane, because they really were the same things he encountered. Just. Different scale. 

And, okay, it had been ages since Sylvain had personally had to replace one of his guitars if it broke, but the principle remained the same. 

But more than anything, it was really nice to just listen to Felix talk. They had almost ten years to catch up on, but at the same time it didn’t feel like there was some unbridgeable gap. Maybe Sylvain was being naive, but this felt right. He just didn’t know if Felix felt it too or was just humoring him. 

God, Sylvain hoped that Felix wasn’t just humoring him. 

“I think we’re actually going to be going out of California soon,” Felix said. Sylvain tilted his head. “There’s not a lot of places we haven’t performed at or are available at all. You might have seen that we’re a bit niche,” Felix added with a wry grin. Sylvain chuckled. 

“What, a two man band contemplating life and death? That’s pretty much every college band ever.” 

Felix snorted, but he didn't argue. Sylvain held back a yawn. The eyebrow raise from Felix could have cowed a weaker man, but Sylvain was used to dealing with all sorts of press nonsense. Even Felix was nothing compared to that. 

Sylvain couldn't hold back the second yawn. 

"You should sleep." Felix didn't make it a question. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. "But I wanna keep talking to a cute guy—" 

"Fuck off and sleep before I hang up on you," Felix snapped. "You have more important things to do, I'm sure." 

"I was telling you the truth when I said that I'd stay in touch. I think I've been pretty good at keeping my word," Sylvain pointed out. He only had missed a few nights, though Felix hadn't seemed too annoyed by that. It was better than Sylvain deserved after what he had done. And if it was wrecking Sylvain's health? Well, he could function on little sleep. Even Mercedes couldn’t complain too much. He was probably healthier now than he had been in ages. Less booze, for one. Less sex, for another. 

"Your word as a superstar is worth less than the dirt outside this motel." 

"And my word as your boy— as your friend?" Sylvain caught himself just in time. They weren't dating. They very resolutely were not dating. And Sylvain was not allowed to pretend that they were because that was mean and crossed a lot of boundaries that even he knew existed. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll… I'll talk to you tomorrow?" Felix sounded so soft and hopeful. Sylvain's heart clenched. 

He nodded. "Of course. Unless I'm dead or in a coma, I'll call." He swallowed. "Good night, Fe." 

Felix blushed. "Good night, ass." He hung up. Sylvain stared at his screen. He sighed. 

_I love you,_ he thought. Maybe one day he'd be brave enough to say it. Maybe Felix would even return the sentiment. 

And maybe someday pigs would fly. 

#

Ashe finally confronted Felix while they were out eating at a shitty diner, the kind that usually just had truckers or particularly desperate families as the patrons. Felix shoved his guitar in the seat next to him and ordered a burger the size of his head. Ashe ate a steak salad that was more salad than steak. 

They were halfway through Texas and Felix was sick of eating nothing but crackers while he stared out in the endless desert. Seriously, there was nothing in Texas. 

"So how's Sylvain?" Ashe asked as he dug all too casually into his own meal. Felix glared at him. At this point, Ashe was immune to all of his looks, which was a shame because Felix didn't have much else to threaten him with. "You two still talking every night?" 

"It's not every night," Felix replied, which might not have been the convincing argument he made it out to be. 

"You know I follow him on Twitter." 

"You follow his publicist on Twitter." 

Ashe waved his fork in the air. A bit of salad dressing hit Felix in the face. Ashe didn't look repentant at all. 

"Why do you care?" Felix had to ask. "Shouldn't you be starstruck or something?" 

"Finding out that you knew him in the past and that he likes you takes a bit of the mystery away," Ashe replied. Felix decided that he didn't have to dignify that with an answer, instead eating more of his burger. The amount of grease in it was certain to shorten his lifespan by about three years, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Are you two…?" 

Felix snorted. Ashe gave him a withering look. "Hey, it's a real question! I keep expecting to come back to the room with you two getting, um—" 

"I am not going to have phone sex with Sylvain." 

Ashe choked on his salad. Felix decided it was payback for earlier, but he was kind enough to wait for Ashe to stop wheezing before continuing. 

"We aren't anything. We're friends. Barely." He rolled his eyes. "Most night's he's too tired to do anything but nod and pretend to be paying attention. He thinks I don't notice, but I do." 

"You know that you're the reason half the Internet thinks he's being held hostage." 

"The Internet is stupid." 

"Are they wrong?" Ashe gave him a serious look. Felix ate a French fry. "I'm just saying, either he's going to collapse from exhaustion or you're going to break his heart and we're going to get another album about his heartbreak, but in English." 

Felix almost asked _what previous album_ but he decided the more important thing to say was, "I'm not the reason he's an idiot."

"But you are the reason he's up every night on his phone instead of sleeping." 

"Can you actually sit there and think that he wouldn't be out partying on drinking or sleeping with some bimbo if it weren't for me?" 

Ashe didn't reply. Felix leaned back in his seat. "Exactly." 

The two started eating again. Their waitress came by and refilled Felix's coffee. Ashe asked for the check. As she walked off to get it: 

"What happened between the two of you?" 

Felix was half-frozen, mouth open to take a bite but mind wanting to stop. In his panic, he bit down and pointed to his mouth, as if he didn't just do that to avoid talking. Ashe levelled an unimpressed look at him. Felix deserved that. 

"I'm just saying, I don't think there's anyone from high school I'd be up every night talking to if they reached out, famous or not."

Slowly, Felix swallowed. The burger clung to the sides of his throat and he watered it down with too-hot coffee. 

"I've known Sylvain my whole life," he explained. "Our fathers worked together in a lot of music stuff. And they're both, well, rich. We went to the same music camps, same fancy parties — I'd take weekend trips to visit him in Paris and he'd visit me in London." Despite himself, Felix smiled faintly. "I learned French just enough so I could avoid getting lost or ask for directions, but I don't remember much anymore." 

"And you two went to high school together?" Ashe sounded understandably dubious of the claim. 

"A private conservatory in France. It's where I know most people in the music business. I was going to be a big time musician one way or another. That was never a question."

"But now you're travelling cross-country in a van that can barely get from one side of the block to the other."

"Yeah." 

Ashe sighed. There was a special sigh for someone who had known Felix for years and years and respected his quiet, impersonal nature. Ashe was the maker and master of that sigh. "Is there a reason you prefer this?" 

Felix could lie, but really, what was the point?

"My brother died. My father and I… did not handle it gracefully." He looked down at his plate. A smear of ketchup had found its way onto the table. "We exchanged words. I graduated, emptied my bank account, and moved to America. I think he gave up trying to find me after a few years." 

Ashe was silent for a long time. The waitress came and dropped the bill off. Felix took it without asking. He didn't even look at it, just pulled his card out and placed it in the designated area. The waitress picked it up with a smile and put it back down with the same fake expression. 

“That still doesn’t tell me what happened between you and Sylvain,” Ashe said as Felix left a hefty tip. 

“He got famous. I didn’t. It’s that simple.”

Ashe’s snort drew a look from a biker sitting all the way on the other side of the diner. “Yeah, and I’m secretly a prince. What actually happened?” 

Felix sighed. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, you’re either talking to me or Sylvain about it, because right now? No one’s winning.” 

“It’s not about winning, it—”

“Then talk to him about it.”

“How am I supposed to do that? He’s in, like, Boston or something and—”

“Flying to Chicago tomorrow, I think—”

“And we’re in Texas. Do you think I can just give him a call and ask him to drop everything so we can rehash our shitty past together?” Even Ashe blanched at that. Felix crossed his arms and scowled out the window. “Yeah, I thought so.” He wished that he felt more like he had won something rather than just digging his own grave. 

The two finished their food, Felix chugged the last of his coffee, and they went back to the van. 

“You know, if you really wanted, I bet Annette could get you into one of his concerts,” Ashe said as he slipped on his seatbelt. Felix stared at him like he had grown a second head. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Why would I want to _go_ to one of Sylvain’s concerts?”

“To talk to him?” Ashe rolled his eyes. He started to back the van out of the parking space, narrowly avoiding a sedan packed with two screaming kids and two parents who looked like they were regretting their life choices. Felix related. “Look, you don’t need to tell me if you really don’t want to—”

“We had sex the night of high school graduation and then he ghosted me. I hadn’t spoken to him since that night.”

“Oh.” 

  
“Yeah.”

A moment passed. Ashe forced the van to get up to speed as they merged back onto the highway. The radio played one of Felix’s old CDs, a familiar sound that both comforted and disquieted him all at once until his emotions stirred in his stomach like a fucked up washing machine. 

_“Fly me up on a silver wing_

_Past the black where the sirens sing_

_Warm me up in a nova's glow_

_And drop me down to the dream below_

_Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass_

_Hardly anything there for you to see_

_For you to see.”_

Felix could still remember when Glenn had given him the CD. Rodrigue hadn’t approved of Glenn’s music tastes, calling it a waste of his talent. That had changed as soon as Glenn got a multimillion dollar record deal, but it was still a year or so before that. No, Felix was barely twelve when his brother handed him the CD with a serious expression.

“This is way better than the boring stuff the Old Man listens to,” Glenn had said. “Guard this with your life. He’ll throw it out if he sees.” 

_“Bring me home in a blinding dream_

_Through the secrets that I have seen_

_Wash the sorrow from off my skin_

_And show me how to be whole again.”_

Ashe cleared his throat. “My brother died too, when I was younger. He got involved with some people and… Well, we could never prove anything, but it really changed my dad. He got obsessed with the truth.” Another moment passed. They drove alongside a truck for a while before it left them in the dust. “He’s dead now too.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Ashe sighed. “I think a lot about what I wish I had said to them. Maybe I could have changed something if I had only spoken up sooner.”

“It wasn’t your fault. People do stupid things. We can’t control them.”

“No,” Ashe agreed, “But we can certainly help.”

_“Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass_

_Hardly anything there for you to see_

_For you to see.”_

Felix knocked his knuckles against the car window. It was almost time for the sun to start setting and the first few rays of light were being consumed by the horizon. The sight was beautiful, maybe, but God was Felix sick of the desert. 

Ashe hummed along with the music. He was just as good a vocalist as Felix and certainly had memorized the entire album somewhere on their trip from Portland to Los Angeles. Felix should have been suspicious, but he was still caught off guard when Ashe said, 

"I think that you should tell him what you think." 

"And what is it, o-mind-reader, that I think?" Felix drawled. 

"I think that you're scared of Sylvain running off again and you don't want to be vulnerable with him because of that fear." Ashe grinned. It didn't quite match the look in his eyes. "Am I right?" 

Felix slouched in his seat, glaring out the window. "I think I liked it better when we didn't talk about personal things." 

Ashe's laughter followed Felix all the way to Dallas. 

#

Despite how little Felix wanted to ever discuss anything slightly serious with a half-asleep Sylvain, one night he blurted out,

"Are you even happy?" 

Sylvain paused while he was in the middle of complaining about how his shoes pinched his heels but no one ever did anything to fix them. The circles under his eyes were more obvious that last time, though the biggest indicator of his quickly spiralling physical state was probably the fact that he had missed most of the previous week. He had gone from Chicago to another city that Felix didn't care about and was now in Toronto. His next concert was in two days — that was considered his rest period for the North American side of the tour. 

After his Canadian run, he'd hit up most of Western Europe with a culmination in Paris, his hometown. Then he had to go through Asia, which involved no less than three cities in India, two in China, Hong Kong, Seoul, Tokyo, and then a pit stop in Australia. 

Not like it mattered, since he wouldn't be able to _be_ in touch after crossing the ocean. Not with that kind of a time difference. 

Felix swallowed nervously. His stomach twisted up, but he shoved his anxiety back down. His mouth opened and, well, that really was it. 

"I mean, you spend most of the time complaining to me about one thing or another. If you really wanted, your shoes could get fixed in an hour. You could demand that you get served nothing but fresh sushi or lamb or whatever. All of the things you complain about, you could fix in an instant. So why are you talking to me about them and not someone useful?" 

The expression on Sylvain's face flipped between annoyance, confusion, and a brief glimpse of anger before settling on a perfectly bemused smile. Felix hated it. 

"They're just small things, Fe. I'm not really worked up about them. 'sides, if I bring them up then someone's gonna get in trouble. It's not too bad, promise." Sylvain actually had the audacity to blow a kiss at his screen, as if Felix would accept that. "I have to have something interesting to tell you besides more stories about wild fans." 

"So you're happy making pop music and dancing with flashing lights and being accused of using autotune from people who don't know the difference between a C and a G?" 

"I'm happy making music. And I'm happy talking to you." Sylvain frowned. "What's gotten into you?" 

Even if he wanted, Felix wasn't sure he could answer the question. "That's not what I asked," he said. "All of this touring and performing — it's not the real you." 

"What do you know about the real me?" Sylvain asked, voice rising. 

"I know that you hated pop music in school. You said that it was all flash and no substance." 

"That — I liked some of it! Like Madonna or — or, um, I liked some of Micheal Jackson's stuff." Sylvain scowled. Felix hated that he was happy with the reaction. It was something different, something other than the smile and wink that Sylvain wore everywhere.

No, that _Godot_ wore everywhere. 

"A guy's music tastes can change. I was never as edgy as you and Dimitri," Sylvain stated plainly. 

"I'm not—" Felix stopped. "That's not the point," he said instead. "I just want to know if you're happy. Tell me that you're happy and I'll shut up and let you kill yourself prancing across different stages each night." 

Sylvain flinched. Felix could have backed off. Could have let Sylvain think about his words. But since when had Felix ever half-assed something? 

"If you want to delude yourself into thinking that this is what you wanted, then fine. But you can't have your career and — and eat it too." The metaphor broke down a bit, but Felix didn't want to be the one to name whatever was between him and Sylvain.

They were not dating, definitely not. But they weren't just friends either. That wouldn't be fair to either of them. 

Felix wished he hadn't said anything. Sometimes it was nice to not acknowledge the elephant in the room. He could have done this at any point, why did it have to be now — 

"Maybe this is what I want. I like being famous, Felix. I like the attention and I like the money and I like knowing that I have millions of people listening to my music. Not all of us can feel satisfied playing in coffee shops our whole lives in some attempt to rage against the machine." Sylvain wasn't shouting. He was almost whispering his words. That made it worse. "Sorry, that wasn't fair of me. I — I like performing. I like being on stage." 

"So is that it?" Felix asked. "You're going to be a star until what? You die?" 

Sylvain frowned. "Um, I guess? I hadn't really thought about it…"

"No, of course you haven't. I'm stupid for assuming that you'd ever think." Felix thought about the number of tabloids that stalked Sylvain, thought about how he hadn't spoken with his own father in almost ten years, how Sylvain even now couldn't tell anyone about him and Felix without destroying all privacy and anonymity that Felix could accumulate. "It's all fake and yet you still cling to it."

"It's real enough." 

"You're a sellout." 

Sylvain winced at that. Felix decided he didn't care. 

"The Sylvain I knew would have died rather than become a mainstream noise to please his father. You're a sellout. I can't believe I didn't notice until now." Felix sneered. "I thought that you had some integrity, but you really just care about the flash, huh? No regard for the art." 

"Maybe I'm different than the Sylvain who loved you in high school!" Sylvain shouted. 

Felix was the one who recoiled from his phone screen. He almost dropped his phone. His hands were shaking. He clenched his jaw to try to stop it. 

"I never knew you…" _It doesn't matter,_ Felix thought. _That was then. This is now._

"I loved you. I still—"

"You ghosted me. You ignored me. Did you even know that it was my show that Ingrid was taking you to?" Felix asked. Sylvain didn't answer. "Of course. You didn't want to see me, it was all — fine. Whatever. Have a good night, Godot. I'm done waiting." Felix hung up. 

When he got back from Ashe didn't ask if Felix had been crying. He didn't have to. 

#

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, but Sylvain could still hear them through his earbuds and he could feel the force behind every cheer and every scream. Even as the band played behind him and the dancers moved in synch, sparks flying and lights flashing blinding colors, Sylvain knew that every eye was on him. He sung into the hand mic with all that he had, ignoring the way his feet ached and his lungs burned and his head throbbed. 

_"We're going down, down in an earlier round_

_And Sugar, we're going down swinging_

_I'll be your number one with a bullet_

_A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it."_

He held the mic out to the crowd and they started singing, a few hundred voices all together. They didn't need to be in tune, it was powerful all the same. Sylvain grinned a wild grin. 

This was what he wanted. This was all he needed. 

_"We're going down, down (down, down)_

_Down, down (down, down)_

_We're going down, down (down, down)_

_A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it."_

He jumped and pretended to strum a guitar as the lights flashed, making him, for a moment, a silhouette of a man. Everyone was looking but no one could see him. It was perfect. 

"I love you Toronto, good night!" He shouted, punching the air right as the lights went out. The crowd screamed for him, begging for more, but he was already halfway off stage. 

He stumbled into the arms of his makeup team, who instantly sat him down in a chair. Someone shoved a water bottle in his hands but he didn't have the space to even try to drink. The makeup team was quick and well-practiced at cleaning him up, removing old stuff and applying new everything. Mercedes was off to the side talking with the stage manager. Everything would have to be packed up and the first load would start driving out that night. Sylvain, thankfully, got to sleep and fly out next afternoon. 

Someone stared at him. It took Sylvain a moment to recognize Annette. 

"Are you even listening?" She asked. 

"Nope." 

"Ugh. I said, do you want to go out to dinner?" 

Sylvain stared at her. "I don't have a choice, do I?" His voice was rough and he sounded about as he felt, but Annette didn't even look surprised. 

"Not really. They're some big producers from your records label." Annette glanced behind her. Sylvain could just see a few suits walking around looking rather out of place amongst the chaos that was backstage after a concert. 

_Well, at least it isn't an interview,_ Sylvain thought. He shooed a woman who was holding eyeliner away and forced himself to stand. He took a long swig of his water and felt a bit better.

"I need to piss. Tell them I'll meet them at the restaurant and they're paying." It was petty, but it wasn't like they couldn't afford it. Annette nodded and ran off. Sylvain went to find a bathroom. 

As soon as he got one, he did actually pee. As he was washing his hands, he resolutely did not look in the mirror. He didn't want to know what he looked like. 

Not exactly eager to get back to the fray, he pulled his phone out and went to see what his Twitter had posted. There was already something about him thanking his fans and how excited he was to get to Quebec. That one was in French, no typos, and included his signature winky face. Or, well, Bernie's signature. Though there wasn't much of a difference, he supposed. 

He switched out of Twitter and went to his texts. There were a few from his father, which he deleted without reading. There was one from Mercedes giving him his itinerary for the night. There was another from Annette telling him the names of the producers, which he didn't care enough to memorize. There was nothing from Felix. Sylvain didn't know why he was surprised. It wasn't like Felix _usually_ sent him anything, but still… 

Sylvain tried calling Felix three times before giving up. If Felix was there, he was ignoring Sylvain. Or he was asleep, which honestly was ignoring him but with extra steps. 

He sighed and went to get dinner. 

#

It was close to one in the morning as he got into the car that would take him back to his hotel. Annette had hugged him after the dinner and promised to get his plane moved back a bit so he could sleep in. By that point, Sylvain could have been told that he would be killed tomorrow by a deranged clown and he would have just nodded and accepted his fate. 

"Do you wish to listen to anything, sir?" The driver asked. Sylvain almost turned him down, but he was a bit drunk and felt like making himself miserable. 

"Do you have _27_ by Aegis Shield?" He asked, slumping in his seat. He barely remembered to put his seatbelt on. The driver nodded, too professional to react to the music choice. Sylvain noticed that he had to look the band up, though. 

Maybe it was fucked up to be thinking about Felix while listening to his dead brother singing, but Sylvain had never been one for good decisions. 

_"If home is where the heart is_

_Then we're all just fucked_

_I can't remember_

_I can't remember_

_And I want it so bad_

_I'd shoot the sunshine into my veins_

_I can't remember the good old days."_

There wasn't much that Sylvain liked to remember about those few years, but he and Felix had definitely been big fans of Aegis Shield. Some of that was because it was Glenn, whom Felix adored and thus Sylvain had to like him, but also because Glenn was talented. Sylvain liked his music. It was raw, it hurt, and it was the opposite of the pop and electronic stuff that Sylvain's dad was trying to push him towards. 

Okay, and Felix liked it. A lot. Sylvain liked anything Felix liked. That was just how the world worked. 

Sylvain saw little champagne coolers in the car's minifridge. He decided there was no harm in taking a few. He wasn't the one driving, after all. 

_"My mind is a safe_

_And if I keep it then we all get rich_

_My body is an orphanage_

_We take everyone in_

_Doing lines of dust and sweat_

_Off last night's stage_

_Just to feel like you_

_The milligrams in my head_

_Burning tobacco in the wind_

_Chasing the direction_

_Chasing the direction_

_Chasing the direction you went."_

Sylvain tried calling Felix again. The call went right to voicemail, but he was too much a coward to leave one. He decided against throwing his phone out the window. Barely. 

Mostly because then he wouldn't even have Felix's number and he didn't want to drag Annette into his issues by making her try to get it from Ashe. He already had thrown up on her once this tour and that was about the limit of shit he'd put someone through in twelve months. 

Mercedes got paid more, so Sylvain didn't feel too bad about making her deal with him. 

_"Are all the good times getting gone?_

_They come and go and come and go and come and go_

_I've got a lot of friends who are stars_

_But some are just black holes."_

The car pulled up to the hotel. The driver parked and went around to open Sylvain's door. If he noticed the three mini champagne bottles Sylvain had managed to drink in the twenty minute car ride, he didn't say anything. 

"Will you require anything else tonight?" The driver asked. 

"Nah, I'm good." Sylvain handed the man a bunch of random bills. He hoped to God they were tens and not hundreds. He wasn't sure what he had in his wallet. Then again, what was three hundred bucks to someone who had millions? "Night." 

He made it back to his room without throwing up. Then, as he opened the door, he threw up. He stared at it. He walked over it. He decided he should clean it up, so he went into the kitchen. 

There was a fruit basket and a note. He grabbed a banana and began rummaging through the fridge. Someone — probably Mercedes, or someone at her request — had placed a bunch of water bottles and a bottle of wine inside. He took out the wine and closed the door. 

On second thought, he got a bottle of water too. 

He was in the bathtub, warm water soaking over his aching body, when he realized he was fully dressed. 

"Shit." He debated the merits of getting up and changing now. He ended up throwing his clothes on the floor and just staying in the bath, alternating sips of water and wine. 

Thankfully his phone was on the counter and not in his pocket. 

As he toweled himself dry — it was tempting to fall asleep in the bath, but he didn't want to drown in his sleep because with his luck that's how he'd go — he scrolled through Spotify and put it on his weekly Discover, too lazy to try to find something specific. A soft guitar line began playing. He wandered across the room, sipping the wine straight from the bottle. it was pretty good, though it wasn’t getting him drunk enough. 

_“I had a thought, dear_

_However scary_

_About that night_

_The bugs and the dirt_

_Why were you digging?_

_What did you bury_

_Before those hands pulled me_

_From the earth?_

_I will not ask you where you came from_

_I will not ask and neither should you.”_

Every single blood vessel in Sylvain’s body ran cold. He could recognize that voice, that slip of fingers on strings, that soft tone anywhere. He just didn’t expect Felix to be playing on his Spotify playlist. And not like this. This was soft. This was tender. This was a ballad between lovers and Sylvain felt like a filthy voyeur just listening to it. 

He wondered who it was for. He didn't want to know. 

Sylvain practically lunged for his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to change the song. He could imagine Felix sitting in the recording studio, weathered guitar in his lap. He could picture his hair falling in his face — his bangs never did cooperate — and his chapped lips forming each syllable. 

He wondered if Felix had written the song himself or if Ashe had helped. Felix was never a master at writing, preferring the technical aspects in school, but every once in a while… magic happened. 

Fraldarius family talent, really. Sylvain was supposed to be the pride of the Gautier empire, but the Fraldarius family always had better skill in their blood. It probably didn’t help that Sylvain had spent most of high school trying to get kicked out, which resulted in him being held back. Twice. 

_“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do”_

Sylvain knew he should turn the music off. Instead, he drank more of the wine. The wine was gone. He wasn’t sure how that happened. 

He left his phone on the counter and went back to the kitchen. This room didn’t have a mini bar. Probably a smart idea, but it only meant he had a few extra steps. He grabbed the phone and manager to order whatever their best whiskey happened to be. 

“A glass, sir?” The attendant asked.

“Bottle.” Sylvain hung up. 

_“I knew that look dear_

_Eyes always seeking_

_Was there in someone_

_That dug long ago_

_So I will not ask you_

_Why you were creeping_

_In some sad way I already know.”_

He went back to his phone. He resolutely ignored the music playing in favor of texting Mercedes. She was probably asleep, but she always checked her phone first thing in the morning so she’d at least be able to yell at him then. 

Sylvain sat on the ground. There was a chair about five feet to his left that looked really comfortable, but that would involve standing up and getting in the chair. That sounded like far too much work so there he sat. 

There was a knock on his door. He went and got the bottle of whiskey, tipped the poor guy who had to deliver it to him, and closed the door in his face. 

Felix’s voice was beautiful. Sylvain could have fallen asleep to it. he had in the past, during long nights where the two of them sat playing guitar together and singing bits of songs or poems or, on one memorable occasion, answers to a chemistry test. 

_“I could not ask you where you came from_

_I could not ask and neither could you_

_Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We could just kiss like real people do.”_

The song came to an end, closing out with a few more bars of soft guitar. Sylvain took his phone and started the song over. Then he set it to repeat indefinitely. 

There was actually a new message alert, and for a moment he deluded himself into thinking that it would be from Felix. It was actually from Mercedes and it was a simple _We’ll talk in the morning_ which didn’t really fill him with confidence. 

He didn’t reply. 

He took a swig out of the whiskey. It burned. It woke him up a bit, though, which he supposed was the opposite of a good thing but it also made his whole chest ache rather than just his heart. 

His fingers moved without him wanting them to. Before he could even focus, he was listening to Felix's voicemail asking him to leave a message. 

_Beep!_

“Fe… Felix… I’m sorry… I… I should have told you before, back in high school… Shoulda… Shoulda done a lot of things different… Miss you… Thinking ‘bout you. Wish you were… wish you were here. You’re beauti… beauti… real pretty. At the club, with all the lights, you were still the brightest thing in the room. Shoulda told you then what I was thinking. Shoulda… Wanted to kiss you, so I did. I always… It’s always been you, Fe. It’s always been you.” Sylvain sniffed. When had he started crying? Did it even matter?

What were the chances of Felix just deleting this and never talking to Sylvain again?

“I miss you. After this, I told… told ‘Cedes that I’m done. No more concerts. No more tours. Don’t wanna be… far… don’t wanna be afar from you. I’ll sleep in the back of your van, I’ll stop singing. I’ll change my name to Gigi and you can be my Gogo. Wait…No, no, I — I just want — I want to be close to you again. I… Please… call me back?” 

Mercedes found him sleeping on the ground, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The same song played all night. 

#

The stadium was one of the smaller ones, an oversight by his producers thinking that he'd somehow be less popular in a predominantly French speaking area. It was another reminder of how far he'd come, going from just singing in French to being an international pop star. But the place was packed — if there was a fire code, it probably was long since trampled under the feet of the cheering crowd. 

Sylvain loved it, but he couldn’t help but be a bit nervous. This was supposed to be about his new music, the cheerful pop anthems and the angst-filled pop cries. Not… Well, the stuff that he had originally released on YouTube, recorded in his father’s studio with a few friends on the weekend.

He greeted the audience with his usual energy, his _Hope you weren’t waiting too long_ rolling off so nicely in French. Real French, not Quebecois. He was maybe a bit pretentious — sue him. 

The set was a bit different, one that he had gotten approved the night before. Then again, at this point, Mercedes was pretty much desperate to keep him in one piece for this leg of the journey. She probably would have agreed to him just standing there and singing, no dancing or showmanship, but say what you would — Sylvain would give and give as long as his fans were happy. That was the problem.

After his piano version of _This Is Gospel_ , which usually ended the show, he actually grabbed the mic off the stand and turned fully towards the audience.

“Bonsoir, messieurs-dames.” Sylvain winked. He let the cheering die down before adding, “Alors, je vais faire quelque chose de différent ce soir. Je viens de Paris, où on parle le _vrai_ français.” That got a laugh out of the crowd. He was smiling. Really, truly grinning ear to ear like a child. It felt nice. 

He hoped this wasn’t some huge mistake. But hey, fuck it. It had been a mistake to drink like a goddamn fool and drunk call Felix the other night, but he was still alive. He could handle it.

“Ce soir, je vais chanter la première chanson que j’ai écrite.” He didn’t even wait for the excitement to die down, signalling with a nod that the music should start. 

The lights took on a dark glow, save for the single spotlight that followed him. The dancers had all fled the stage. It would just be him and a backing track — the band hadn’t even been prepped in time. Somehow, it was both the most brave and the most terrifying of decisions all wrapped up together. 

_“Ça te fait pas ça,_

_quelque chose en toi,_

_Quand nos passés se répondent_

_Et qu'on se retrouve juste toi et moi_

_Mais moi je fonds, je ne me reconnais pas,_

_quand tu te détaches et que les mots ne viennent pas_

_Et je sens bien que je m'y prends mal,_

_que tout ça, c'est pas normal.”_

He thought about Felix. He had shown Felix the song, back when they were in high school. Felix had critiqued the use of a sample for the drum beat, thinking that he should have used a real drum. It was too late to change it at that point, or else Sylvain would have. But, importantly, it had been painfully obvious that Felix didn’t know a damn word of French despite having visited France frequently as a child. 

Otherwise, he had heard Sylvain bare his soul and hadn’t even blinked. 

Then again, could Sylvain think anything different would have happened? He was a fool for thinking that a night years and years ago still meant anything to Felix. He was an asshole for pushing the issue. It would have been better if he had never seen Felix again. 

_“Et que tu voudrais la version sous-titrée_

_Laisse moi voir ce qu'il reste à voir,_

_emmène-moi vers le grand soir_

_Te souffler, si tu veux bien m'écouter_

_Un petit peu toi et moi,_

_Je sais plus, je sais pas_

_Un petit peu toi et moi,_

_Et toi t'en penses quoi?”_

The line that Sylvain was most proud of was _Et que tu voudrais la version sous titrée_ — _And that you'd like the subtitled version_. The shorthand. Because who could take a real look at Sylvain and actually want him? He didn’t even want himself. 

But that would be fine. He could keep living with a mask, singing songs that no one understood, as long as he could have Felix back. And even though he knew that Felix wouldn’t know about this night — unless Ashe told him, but even then, would he care? — Sylvain still sung. 

He switched from the one song into the other, not bothering to announce the shift except for a change in the music. 

Admittedly, if he had really wanted to, he probably could have played this on the piano live. Then again, it had been so long since he had tried that, and he wasn’t exactly in top form as it was. Mercedes had told him that he would just have to deal with whatever backlash he got for not having at least the band perform his songs. He had told her that he’d bear it all with a grin.

_“Sublime et silence_

_Autour de moi tu danses_

_Et moi j'oublie_

_C'est à toi que je pense,_

_À ta bouche brûlante_

_Quand tu souris_

_Le vide aurait suffi_

_Le vide aurait suffi.”_

When he had written this song, he hadn’t kissed Felix yet. He’d described Felix’s lips as burning. He knew now that he had been wrong. Felix, yes, was hot like a fire. His touch was like standing close to an open flame. He made Sylvain feel warm enough to survive a blizzard just with a single shared glance. And Felix’s actions, his passion for everything he set his mind to — yes, those things could be described as burning. But his kisses? 

Those were like being doused with a bucket of ice water. It was a shock to the system, a realization, a sudden epiphany. A lightning strike, maybe, but with a flood afterwards that nothing would ever be the same again. 

That was what kissing Felix was like. 

_“Mais je sais que tu restes_

_Dans les fleurs que j'te laisse_

_Après la nuit_

_Violence et promesses_

_C'est tout c'que tu détestes_

_La mort aussi.”_

It really was stupid that he had thought that a well-sung ballad could get Felix to fall for him. A bit of poetry, that was all it was. He could sing about how Felix had been fucked over by the system that killed his brother, how Sylvain saw the way Felix hated the world and its empty promises and its meaningless violence, but what did it matter?

He still wasn’t good enough. He still wasn’t enough. That was probably why he had hidden in the shroud of his growing fame rather than reach out to Felix and just ask how he was doing. 

There wasn’t a single problem in Sylvain’s life that he hadn’t caused. 

_“Le vide aurait suffi_

_Le vide aurait suffi.”_

#

Sylvain gladly took a water bottle from someone when he walked off stage, but thankfully this time there was no swarm of make-up artists or people vying for his attention. Mercedes had her kind-but-willing-to-murder expression, which usually had Sylvain quaking in his shoes. Tonight, it was aimed at anyone who dared get too close to them.

“That was wonderful,” Mercedes said. She gave him a hug, not minding the sweat and glitter he inevitably left behind on her pantsuit. “You did so well. And now you can rest and sleep! There isn’t even an interview scheduled for a week.”

Sylvain could have cried. Instead, he grinned. “Well, we have to let the people control themselves. Can’t let them get too overwhelmed with my presence,” he said, as if he hadn’t begged Mercedes for a break that morning. “Where’s a pizza place? Can we get pizza on the way back? Not nice pizza, like — the shit that makes you die young.”

“Language,” Mercedes chided, but there was no heat in her voice. “We can stop for pizza. I’m bringing you back to the hotel myself,” she reminded him. He held out an arm for her, like a proper gentleman. She raised an eyebrow. He was still in his costume.

“I’ll give it back tomorrow. Besides, you think this is the first time I’ve walked off with concert clothes?” 

She shrugged before wrapping her arm around his. “Well, in that case, lead the way.” 

The two only got about ten feet when Annette came out of the backstage darkness like a woman on a mission. Mercedes actually frowned. 

“I thought I said no press or producers, Annie.”

“I know, but this is — this is really, really important. He has to see him,” Annette gasped out between breaths. Sylvain was conscious enough to raise an eyebrow. “It’s Felix.”

Sylvain thought he misheard until Felix, in his stupid leather jacket and with his stupid hair and his stupid scowl, walked out of the darkness. 

They were surrounded by people. Not just stagehands but also musicians, dancers, and a few members of Sylvain’s record label. It was a total toss-up who had an NDA on them and who was just someone contracted for the weekend and who had never listened to a single one of his songs before that night. Sylvain was an international star and half of his appeal was being a huge flirt, frustratingly single, and willing to mingle. 

He still lunged for Felix — and it really couldn’t be described any other way, his body pure instinct at this point — to kiss him. 

Felix moved out of the way, allowing Sylvain to hug him but keeping their lips from touching. It was still enough. It was more than enough. 

He was so warm under Sylvain’s fingers. His heart beat strong and steady — or maybe that was Sylvain’s heart, but he was certain his was out of control. He thought he heard Mercedes say something, then Felix reply, but Sylvain couldn’t make out words. He pulled back just so he could look at Felix, who had an expressionless mask over his face. Sylvain could feel his heart crumble, but it wasn’t a rejection. And surely even Felix wouldn’t come all this way just to yell at Sylvain?

Somehow, he and Felix ended up in Sylvain’s dressing room. A strong sense of deja vu hit Sylvain, but he didn’t say anything. 

Felix was lingering by the door, as if he was going to take off any second. Sylvain stuck by the back wall, like that made him any safer.

“I flew here. After I got your. Um. Voicemail.” 

Sylvain winced. “I was — I was really, really drunk.” At the look that Felix gave him: “I was exceptionally drunk, even for me.”

“I could tell.” Felix frowned. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” Sylvain wished that, for once in his life, he’d actually say something at the right time. Felix’s frown deepened. “I mean — I said a lot of things. I do think you’re beautiful. The most—”

“Would you give it all up if I asked you?” 

Sylvain sucked in a sharp breath. That really was the question, wasn’t it? Throw away fame? Glory? A guaranteed future of success and everything that a person could ever want?

“In a heartbeat. For you.”

Felix scoffed. “Then you’re an idiot. What kind of person would ever ask someone to give up their whole life for someone else? Bah.” He crossed his arms. “Look, I know that it’s not really ideal, but… I couldn’t ask you to abandon something you’ve worked so hard for. I said some stupid stuff too. I shouldn’t have insulted your music so much.”

Sylvain laughed despite himself. “I mean, some of it is pretty bad.”

“Not all of it. What were you singing out there? I don’t remember you having French songs.”

“Ah, yeah, well, you probably wouldn’t. It was back in school, before all this.” Sylvain gestured vaguely. “It helped get me an audience, but once I was mainstream… Well, no one wants an international star that only speaks French.” 

Felix rolled his eyes. “They’re all idiots.” He paused. “What… Well, you can’t really translate them all for me now…” He was blushing. The tips of his ears were red and that warmth only spread over the rest of his face. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sylvain blurted out. Felix opened his mouth, but before he could— “I just, not just kissing. I want to date you. I want us to be official. I’ll tell everyone you want — or no one,” he added, thinking about Felix’s hard-won anonymity. “But I want you in my life the way that I’ve dreamed of. I meant that too.”

Felix was silent for a long time. Then:

“I would like that. I… should speak with my father, too. It’s been a while. I can’t keep running. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” He stepped forward. “Do you… Do you have plans tonight?” 

“Not really.” Sylvain laughed. “I was planning on getting a pizza. Want to join me?” He held a hand out.

Felix smiled. “I’d like that.” He took Sylvain’s hand. It fit perfectly. 

As they headed to the parking lot, Felix squeezed Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain squeezed it back. People were… Well, they were too polite to stare, but a few looked at them a bit longer than usual. Sylvain made a mental note to apologize to Bernie and Mercedes for the work they were about to do for him. They’d probably be fine after a gift basket or two. 

“I… don’t suppose that you have a hotel to recommend?” Felix asked slowly. 

“I do, actually. It’s very nice. Big rooms, warm beds… And oh, there’s a space for you to stay. Completely free.”

“What’s the drawback?” Felix asked, smile teasing Sylvain every time he saw it. 

“Well, you have to share it with this really egotistical musician.”

“Oh, that’s it? I did that for years in high school,” Felix replied. Sylvain laughed. Then, because he lived in this wonderful world, he kissed the top of Felix’s head. A stagehand actually dropped something.

 _Yeah, I’m gonna hear about this later,_ he thought. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

#

 _“Our next guest is a multi-platinum, Grammy award winning artist. His songs have been on Billboard's Top 100 since he first came onto the scene over a decade ago. His most recent album,_ I Am Sylvain Gautier, _came out last week and is already shattering records. Please welcome — with no wore waiting — Godot!_

_[Godot enters, waving to the crowd as he sits down]_

_Now, Godot, It’s always a delight to have you on the show._

Thanks for having me. It’s always nice to be back in the city. 

_A lot’s changed since the last time you were here. Last time, you were promoting your tour for_ From Under The Cork Tree _, which had just released. Catch us up._

Well, I took a few months off after the North American part of the tour. Like I’ve said, I was dealing with a lot mentally and needed to just take a step back and breathe. I know it was really hard for my biggest fans, but I truly do appreciate everyone who stood by me then. 

Since then, I finished the rest of the tour series and then I started to write and now — now we’re here! 

_[Cheering]_

_Okay, yes, and we will definitely talk about the music, but I have to say congrats. No, no, not about the album. But you recently had some pretty big news._

Yeah! I, uh, I officially proposed to my boyfriend and, uh, now we’re engaged. 

_[Extended cheering]_

_Yes, yes, I’m so happy for you, but the real question is who on Earth is going to be playing at your reception, because I do not envy the guys who have to do that._

_[Laughter]_

I, uh, think we might be going with a DJ, but there’s a lot to plan. We’ll probably do it after this tour. 

_Okay, well, you have my address for my invitation, right?_

Of course. Can’t forget the best talk show host on the East coast — don’t tell Stewart I said that, I’m on his show next week.

 _Your latest album,_ I Am Sylvain Gautier, _has been called a departure from your most recent style and an embrace into a new, exciting sound. How does that make you feel?_

Flattered, mostly. I know that I did a lot of new things, but I’m trying — I think it’s about getting back to my roots. All of them. That’s why I have a little bit of French, a bit of rougher stuff. But it’s also about looking forward and embracing what I’m about. And that includes some synth and some bass drops.

 _In a bit, you’ll be performing_ The Last Of The Real Ones _for us. A lot of critics are wondering if this is some kind of continuation from your last big song,_ This Is Gospel. _What do you have to say about that?_

I think they’re two different songs dealing with two different sides of an event. One happened before, one happened after. I’m happy that people like both.

_Now, in this industry it’s all about the future. Obviously you have some big things coming up, so I’ll take the bait and ask — what does your marriage mean for your music?_

It means good things. I probably wouldn’t be here, performing, if it weren’t for my best friend, my soulmate. I owe him everything. Anyone who’s my fan should be thanking him, really. And they don’t have to worry. He’s the first person to make sure that I’m on top of my game. 

_Well, if the future is bright for you, it’s bright for the rest of us. Now, I don’t usually ask these sorts of questions, but I thought that you’re a tough guy and you can handle them._

Sure, shoot.

_Can you come to my daughter’s birthday party? She’s a huge fan._

I’ll have my people call your people.

_[Laughter]_

_That sounds good to me. Ladies and gentlemen — Godot! Out now is_ I Am Sylvain Gautier, _his latest record-breaking album. After a short break, we’ll be back with Godot performing hit single_ The Last Of The Real Ones. 

#

_“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you_

_But not as much as I do_

_As much as I do, yeah_

_Cause you're the last of a dying breed_

_Write our names in the wet concrete_

_I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me_

_I'm here in search of your glory_

_There's been a million before me_

_That ultra-kind of love_

_You never walk away from_

_You're just the last of the real ones”_

**Author's Note:**

> The subtitle to this fic was "Sylvain subjects himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known" but unfortunately that doesn't quite read well on AO3. 
> 
> I just want to let the world know that Dimitri is alive in this universe. Just. Not important apparently. 
> 
> If you can catch every single musical reference, I'll give you a cookie and my undying appreciation and respect.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://disasterfelixfraldarius.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)


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